


6 + 1 Underground

by Zwiezraczek



Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Canon, basically Eight is a former ballerina and an excellent driver
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwiezraczek/pseuds/Zwiezraczek
Summary: Sasha is a Polish girl, with a strange past. She has various skills, driving amongst others. So she becomes Eight. And you know that Four plus Four is Eight…
Relationships: Four | Billy (6 Underground)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 82





	1. Eight's Born

**Author's Note:**

> Another small thing I'm doing, trying to make something out of this haha ^^  
> Sasha is another OC that I have, but basically you can read the story and identify with her (as I said previously I don't like the y/n thing, like... Nah haha)

Sasha instantly opened her eyes, taking the gun from under her pillow and pointing it at the black figure that stood in front of the window of her apartment. Her blond messy hair was all over her face as she tried to focus on the intruder, waiting for them to move, to put their arms up, to surrender. But they didn't. They stood immobile, there, in between the airy curtains moved by the breeze.

“Got me,” the man said with a warm tone, just as if he was smiling, “you're quick as hell.”

“Shut the fuck up and turn on the lights motherfucker,” she barked still pointing at him. Her eyes were focused on the man moving slowly towards the little lamp in the right corner, as she moved herself on her bed. But he took his time, and she didn't like it. “Don't you fucking play with me or I'll fucking kill you.”

“So many swear words coming from the mouth of a young and delicate lady,” the stranger teased just before switching on the light.

The scene could have been embarrassing if Sasha was the shy type of girl, but she wasn't. Her large white t-shirt barely covered her panties as she was on her knees over her sheets, eyes focused on her target. Her blue pearly eyes looked at him, she had the face of an angel. This was why they chose her.

When her mother died, she lost everything, even her father, who spiraled down into immorality more than he did before. So she decided to go all illegal, no strings attached in this Polish city, Sasha and her pretty face coming right into the Polish mafia. They told her that the best she could be was a whore for them, maybe even the boss if she was lucky enough, but Sasha was so much more than she looked. She was Kubica. That was how her mother used to call her when she was behind the steering wheel. She was reckless, she was bold, she could be a danger for the people driving around her and to tone this down, her mother made her take some ballet classes. Discipline and recklessness, everything Sasha was made of. From pseudo whore to mafia's chef, Piotr's, driver.

“Fuck you, don't you dare telling me what I should be or not, you fucker,” she dangerously whispered as the man casually stood next to the lamp, arms crossed. “What do you want from me?”

“Why don't you run from me?” the stranger continued still looking at her. She felt disoriented, making a small head tilt as he said these words. “Fucking millennials, when you try to be like them they go “No, I don't get you old man, tbh sorry”,” he continued, a little bit deceived by what he just witnessed. “Billie Eilish, or whatever? Doesn't ring a bell?”

“I won't repeat myself,” she warned, her index ready to pull the trigger. “You don't talk, you won't live.”

“Okay, okay, let's chill a bit. I'm not here to kill you or whatever, but more to... Allow you to be free?” She rose an eyebrow, not putting down her gun. This man was stranger than she had expected, it would have been easier if he just wanted to kill her. She would have pulled the trigger. Boom, no problem. “Well, you know, I know you very well Sasha.”

“Ho the fuck do you know my name?” her words were sharper than a blade. Nobody in the mafia world knew her by her real name, she was Kubica. No Sasha, just Kubica, the driver.

“I know many things about you Sasha... Damn, that's so uncomfortable to stand, I'll sit if you don't mind,” he concluded before sitting on a small stool near the lamp. “So, I was saying. I know many things about you, that you're a ballerina...”

“Was,” she corrected angrily.

“Yeah, dancing stays dancing,” he brushed the subject off as soon as he spoke about it, “you work for that mafia for a long time because your father is an asshole that let you down when your mother died...”

“Don't you dare talking about my mother, understood?”

“Wow, relax. Promise. Wow, taboo. Okay, I'll remember that. So,” he pursued after a small pause, “your dad does some bad shit, you didn't like that shit so you started to do your own shit and your ways are parted now, Kubica.”

“My mom used to call me like that,” she whispered, body slowly becoming less and less tense. “Who are you?”

“Guardian angel, wanker, asshole billionaire... Names are countless, depends of the people you're asking. But mostly, I'm a ghost.”

“You fucking kidding me,” she erected while looking at him from head to toe.

“Well, technically, in the records, I'm dead. But, really, I'm not. Can you believe how simple it is to fake your own death?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Exactly,” he said as if she cared. “And then comes the fun part of being dead: you can do whatever you want. Heard about the big Coup, Murat Alimov, Rovach Alimov?” She only nodded. “Our job. We did it.”

“We? I thought you were alone.”

“We'll make the introductions later if you don't mind Sasha. But, well, we have another touchy touchy mission and we'd need a good driver so...”

“I'm working for Piotr,” she interrupted him harshly. “I'm loyal.”

“I know, discipline and shit but like... We really need you? Pretty please?”

“You have plenty of drivers in the sea, go and fish for them.”

“No many drivers are Kubica and look like an angel.”

“I said I'm loyal. Now leave or I'll blow your head.”

“Wouldn't you like to piss your father off even a tiny bit little more? Imagine him learning that you're dead, and you know, he's a motherfucker basically, he fucks around now... You'll be able to do some nasty things to that immoral motherfucker without being punished for it. Total freedom. Piotr can't guarantee that, but I can.”

He got her.

“I'll listen to you.” 

* * *

She became Eight. She died in a car accident, suicide as the media said. She drove directly into the Odra, from the golden bridge right into it. Big scandal for the media, as they found the big Polish billionaire's daughter dead – in fact they never found her body, only the car – after years of searching for her. Daddy was very concerned, he cried his eyes out during the funeral. From afar, she saw Piotr attending the funeral, along with some of her mafia's friends. Magda stood next to Piotr, holding his hand, while she sobbed with puffy eyes. Sasha's heart was ready to stop as she saw this girl crying for her, she would cry for her too if it was her funeral. But now, Sasha was dead. Eight was born.

“No shit, your dad's a fucking actor,” One commented, standing next to her in the snow.

Already January. Snow fell during Christmas Eve, the day she spent with Maga watching stupid Polish movies and drinking cheap wine from the shop around the corner. Her last Christmas. The bare trees carried now a large amount of snow on their branches, sometimes falling off. Sasha liked snow, she would miss it in California. She would miss her country, she would miss the food, she would miss everything. She would miss her language. But she should be able to make it, for her mom right?

“My father's a fucking asshole who knows how to cover up his fucking deeds,” she replied. “I don't wanna see this masquerade or whatever, we should go.”

“Wow, the last time somebody told me that they wanted to go and not watch their own funeral was... Right now,” he admitted. “Even Two wanted to watch it until the end. But fine, we'll have plenty of time to discuss our next move with the Ghosts.”

“Let's go then. I hope you have nice cars in the US.”

He smiled, not answering. That was a yes.

* * *

She slept during half of the flight, they arrived around noon, time to sleep in Poland, still early in the morning. She rubbed her eyes, siting next to One in the pilot's cabin. The engine was still roaring as they landed safely on the yellowish sand. This was too early for any shit like this, she thought as she grabbed her sport bag in which all her belongings were stuffed. Some comfy clothes, the keys of the cars that died with her and a picture of her mom and her, hidden between all these matters. One forbid taking too personal stuff, he agreed for the keys though, but she needed her mother with her. Just to feel like home.

She instantly regretted putting on a sweater when she stepped outside the engine. She felt drops of sweat run on her back, she knew she was absolutely sweaty right now; the only thing that reassured her was that she put a tank top under all of this. Life saver. She followed One's steps in the sand, sleepy as hell, wishing for a bed and a shower just to function properly. They landed in the middle of abandoned planes, in the middle of nowhere, in a Californian desert. Great, she was dead and lost. Was it all worth it, she asked herself as she followed one into one of the planes with a large ghost imprinted on it.

There were the others, the five others. They didn't even flinch when she entered the room with One, doing what they had to do. She looked all around her, the atmosphere was oppressive because of the lack of lighting, some neon green lights escaped from the monitors some of them worked on, stale smell spread all around the “room”. One clapped and all their heads rose, all eyes on Sasha, Eight, now. They scrutinized her, and she scrutinized them as they all gathered around them. It was like a cult welcoming a new member. She got shivers down her spine, tightening her grip around her bag. A short brunette holding folders against her chest was now standing in front of them, next to her a black man with a gun in his hand; a cold blonde looked at them and slowly made her way up to them, next to a man sitting on a chair in front of a computer. And the last one,a blond man with a hoodie jumped over the table to find himself near, standing now next to the brunette. Great picture, the Power Rangers, she thought.

“Please welcome Eight, our new driver,” One said the group as they all looked at her. “No hugs, no kisses, she's a Kubica, no paparazzi or whatever.”

“Kubica,” the blond man whispered, catching Sasha's attention before the man sitting stood up and interrupted him.

“Welcome Eight, I'm Three. Was a hitman, now I'm a good hitman,” he precised with a finger up as the blonde who was standing next to him rolled her eyes.

“Shut up”, she cut him off as he looked offended.

“Ay, mami why are you so nasty with me?”

“I'm Two, former French CIA agent,” she pursued ignoring the man's whining.

“Clear and precise,” Sasha commented under her breath, already amazed by the woman. “Nice to meet you.”

“Five, former doctor in a Mexican hospital,” the brunette said with a welcoming smile. “It will always be a pleasure to heal your wound. Hope you won't move as much as Two when I try to do my magic.”

“Shut up,” Two groaned. 

“Seven, sniper,” the black man introduced himself after putting the gun on the table and coming to shake her hand. “Hope you drive smoothly so I can give head shots from the car window.”

“I'll try my best,” she shyly answered while knowing she could do it. She actually did it sometimes as Piotr's men were having a hard time.

“Four, skywalker,” the hooded man said looking at her with his green eyes. “If you wanna watch a movie or something like that, just hit me up,” he continued as he ran his hand through his hair after putting down his hoodie. His curly blond hair was all messy, was he trying to comb it with his fingers?

“Thanks,” Sasha replied with a little smile. “So, I'm Eight, mafia's driver.”

“Liar,” Three commented, “not with this pretty face of yours.”

“You'd be surprised,” One interrupted as he patted Three's shoulder. “That girl has exceptional skills.”

“Six had exceptional skills too,” Two remarked, arms crossed now. “Didn't prevent his death.”

“Will we wallow for a long time, mourn and stuff like this,” One asked while looking at her. “He died a hero, that's it. We all knew what the mission was about and accepted possible death. Period as millennials say.”

“Period,” Two asked. “That's not the women's thing?”

“Dot if you prefer,” Sasha could hear One's sigh as he answered, but Two wasn't convinced. “Whatever, Eight's our new driver and that's it.”

“He promised some nice cars,” Sasha tried to say, but only Five seemed to listen to her.

“He's a liar, we had a horrible car in Hong Kong, not practical at all,” the brunette told her, as she seemed to bite her lip.

“Not practical,” Three added almost yelling.

“Whose fault? Whose,” One reproached him. “Okay, now we're finished with our complaints, Five, take Eight to her trailer please, it's the one next to yours. And Eight, make yourself at home.”


	2. Eight's Peer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha finally arrives in the Californian desert and meets the crew. She meets Four, a comrade.

She left the place with Five as soon as One told her where she had to live now, where her new home was. A trailer in the desert. No lights from the rynek, no songs from the bars, no laughter from the tourist and the people living in the city: the calm of the desert, the sound of sand on the ground, the cold air during night, the silence. The nothingness. But she was still a bit too sleepy to think about it, to ponder upon her next nights here, to catch up the time and to adjust to the time zone. She needed to sleep a few more hours, nothing more. Her sport bag became heavy as they walked in the sand, in silence. The brunette walking slowly next to her, she left her folders in the airplane, their GQ. She looked at her, still a warm smile on her face. Sasha obviously looked like shit, her hair being a whole mess and her face screaming “lack of sleep”, but she walked towards a bed, a couch or whatever, a place to sleep in.

“You have questions then,” the brunette finally asked as she walked, hands in her pockets between the different trailers. And indeed a question was on Sasha's hazy mind.

“You're a doctor, right,” Five nodded, “ what are you doing here, with these people?” This was the only thing she wanted to know for the moment, among knowing which one of the trailers was hers now. Five's smile faded for a second, she began to think for a short lapse of time. “Sorry to be intrusive like that.”

“No, it's fine,” she said as she continued to advance. “I'm from Puerto Rico, but I used to work in Mexico. Was a good student once,” she said, almost chuckling, remembering the old times. “And then, I discovered corruption in hospitals, another world. If you wanted to be cured, you had to have money. So I couldn't help the ones in need,” her tone was full of regrets, and Sasha knew something about this herself. Her country was also corrupted to the core, in the hospitals, almost everywhere. She never suffered it as a child, but began to understand it as she joined the mafia. “So I spiraled into depression because I couldn't fulfill the mission I gave to myself. Tried suicide a few times actually,” she admitted rubbing her wrists, “without success obviously... And once Once found me, while I was not in the best place and offered me death,” Sasha looked at her, absolutely perplexed, “metaphorically speaking. I'd be free from this corrupted world and able to save lives as I always wanted to do. So I accepted.”

“Wow,” Sasha gasped, suddenly less sleepy, she was really surprised that Five shared that with her. She didn't knew her at all, she was new in the crew but... They were all tied together now, this was probably what made sharing less difficult. “Much more... Romantic, than my encounter with one a few days ago,” she commented to ease the atmosphere. “I tried to blow his head with my gun.”

“Jesus,” the brunette whispered. “One still has this bad habit of sneaking into apartments... You know, Two almost killed him when she met him. But the most hilarious encounter with Once was Four's,” she admitted with a smile. “Here's your trailer Eight.”

“Really,” she asked both for Four and her trailer as she saw a large white trailer with a ghost tagged on it.

“Four will tell you if you ask and yes, that's your new home. My trailer's just over there, if you need anything just come and ask me.”

“That's nice Five, thanks.”

“You're welcome and... Oh yeah, we're going to have a pizza in like four hours, so when you're not as sleepy as you look now, you may join us, only if you want of course”, she offered.

“Sounds nice, I'll come with you.”

“Great, so meet us in front of the GQ at four p.m then,” she said before leaving her, going back into the place where she left her folders.

When she opens the door, she sees the smallest place on Earth in front of her eyes: her new home. Not as fancy as her previous apartment, with large windows, with the nice view, but a trailer with a couch on which she could sleep, some shelves on which she could display the things she'll gather during the adventure, a space to put her clothes... Pretty impersonal as a s space. She had to make it her own, just to feel it, just to feel less homesick. But for now, she needed sleep, not a fancy place.

She put her bag down on the blue carpeted floor before almost throwing herself on the couch, not looking for something to cover herself, but just to closer her eyes. A clock was ticking in front of her, she wanted to throw it as soon as she heard it near her ear. But she needed it to know when to get up and go out to eat something, she was hungry. Hungry for everything, hungry for food, hungry for new experiences, missing her friends, missing the ones she used to love. She stretched her hand towards her bag, searching for the picture she took with her between the clothes and the shoes. _Mom_. She needed some music to sleep, and took her phone out. Forst, she proceeded to put an alarm on it to be ready on time, then, she searched through her playlist – not for a long time – for the _Swan's Lake_ music. The music that made her fall in love with ballet. She performed as Odette once, her mom was so proud of her, with her little swan feathers all around her waist and her serious airs. _Tic. Tac. Tic. Tac._ Through the notes, she still could hear the clock. She couldn't bear it anymore, and instead of crushing it on the ground – as she first intended to do – she took the piles out. Now that she remembered that she had a phone with her, just with the basics, no calling nor texting, she could throw it away.

She couldn't sleep, so she decided to take a shower before going out. Music still playing, she looked for the small shower space in the trailer where everything was already here, as waiting for her. She suspected Five, just because she seemed to be the most caring of them all, or just because she was the only one she had the chance to really speak to. The water was cold, cold enough to wake her up immediately after an one hour laying on the couch, listening to the _Swan's Lake_ music. Her blonde hair covered her face as the water poured down. She breathed heavily, thinking about the ones she left behind, maybe regretting it a bit, regretting her hubris and her will to take revenge on her father which ended up hurting the ones she cared the most about. Her little family, Magda or even Piotr. She hit the trailer's wall with her fist, no Sasha, you had no way back now.

* * *

The place where they had to eat wasn't too far from where they were settled. People seemed to know the group, as the waiter didn't even ask them where they wanted to sit.

Light was coming from the outside through the large windows, and the slight touched of red were decorating the blue interior. Not many people, and she couldn't decide if it was because they came in too early or if their food wasn't that great. Anyway, this was the perfect spot for a ghost squad. Four slipped on the sofa along with Five, back to the light, giving them a beautiful halo all over them as they were looking at one menu together, Seven sat on Four's right, his own menu in hand, pretending to read it but he seemed to know exactly what he wanted. Three faces Two, making stupid faces as he looked at the woman who just rolled her eyes in exasperation, Eight had only the place next to One left, so she sat there, on the empty seat looking at the menu. She liked a good pizza, put pierogi were better, sadly she wasn't in Poland anymore, so she ordered pizza – without even bothering to know who would pay for all of this.

They ended up with five pizzas on the table, sharing them, every one of them picking a different slice from each pizza. The waiter brought them drinks, the usual, as he said with a little smile on his face, taking the liberty of bringing Sasha a beer. A good choice, this was all that she needed now. She looked at all of them talking, feeling a bit off, a bit odd. She tried to smile as she looked at them, but she didn't know what to say to these perfect strangers talking about the things that had happened to them.

“I'm so happy to be dead,” Three exclaimed out of the blue as Two gave him a perplexed look, sipping her coffee.

“You do realize you're not really dead, right?” her question snapped Three, who frowned a bit, processing the whole information.

“Guys, you do realize we got the same conversation when I joined a few months ago,” Seven asked looking at the two of them and then at the rest of the band before looking at Eight. “So, Eight, you'll see, being dead has it pros...”

“Being drunk and naked, and not getting caught by the pigs,” Four interrupted him, a beer in his hand as he locked his eyes on Eight, his green eyes into her porcelain blue eyes. She found them beautiful.

“Four, no more mention of this”, Seven hesitated an began to wave his hands, “getting drunk and naked, it's fucking creepy man!”

“Not where I come from,” Four casually answered taking a sip from his green bottle.

“Jesus,” Seven whispered before looking at Eight again, with a reassuring smile. “So, basically, the pros, you do what you want to do without being traced by the government.”

“I should be illegal in here,” Five added as she rubbed her fingers against the paper towel. “Can travel wherever I want to, freedom.”

“Buy stuff you were ashamed of because of, you know, people,” Four interrupted again, maybe a bit tipsy.

“For fuck's sake, Four”, Seven had to stop him again. “So, now the cons, otherwise Four will be pleased to make you a list of all the pros.”

“No problem mate, whenever you want to hear them.”

“When we'll end this whole cons situation, I'd love to hear more about your pros then,” Sasha said, looking at Four with a smirk before reaching for her beer and rising her bottle towards him before drinking.

“Cons, no marriages,” One reminded as he had maybe felt something in the air, Eight looked at him, innocently. “We already have Three and Two fucking around, but because it's Two I tolerate this because she's the only one to handle this... Mess,” he completed as he pointed a vexed Three. “But for fuck's sake, no love stories, no Taylor Swift, no Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber. Understood?”

“Wow,” Sasha said after whistling, “ who fucked up so bad that you had to make this rule up?”

“Nobody yet,” Two finally joined the discussion in, with an inexpressive face as if she wasn't the center of the attention of what was previously said.

“Okay, got it, seems fun and all but I think that we're all gathered for a mission so... Basically, what's the plan,” Eight finally asked, feeling more at ease now, as she reached for another slice of pizza.

“We had nine targets, now only eight, funny coincidence,” One remarked as he began to speak. “So, I told you about the crazy shit we do, but nothing specific. We're on our second target now. For the moment, we gather information, so no real plan.”

“So why asking me to join you when you're on stand-by?”

“Who knows, mafia's dangerous, I'd had to find another driver, waste of time,” he casually told her as he grabbed another slice and put it into his mouth.

“An angel in the mafia, ay mami,” Three said, pretty impressed. “With that pretty face of yours certainly was a pleasure to work there.”

“Four amazing years, crazy fucking years,” she replied with a smirk as she thought about all the things she did.

“Four years,” Four reacted. “Wow, crazy stuff. Russian mafia?”

“Polish,” she corrected. “I know my accent's Eastern but not that Eastern.”

“This explains the Kubica thing,” Four muttered, the bottle touching his lips.

“You know Kubica, no shit?” she asked pretty surprised.

“Who doesn't,” then he looked at the five others around the table, and all, except One were quite lost. Indeed, nobody never really cared to know about who Kubica was. “Okay, only Easterners and old wankers.”

“What wanker,” One asked as he got absolutely ignored by Four who was now looking at his peer.

“Easterner too? No way,” she couldn't believe that her radar didn't alarmed her about it, the blond hair should have been a great clue, but he never spoke much and now she knew, he had a tiny small accent as he spoke.

“Ukrainian.”

“We'll have many things to discuss then, pros and how you managed to survive with that food,” Sasha said, a little smile across her face.

“Whenever you want Eight, mate. Cheers to the Easterners,” she said, as he rose his bottle towards Sasha, and she did the same before drinking some of their beer.

She suddenly felt less lonely.


	3. Eight's Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha finally understands one thing: things aren't really going the way she wanted them to.

During the ride back home, Sasha looked at the landscapes. Desert, cactus, dust, wind, mountains. No green, nothing at all as they left the city. Three was driving the large car, apparently a Ford Expedition from what she saw, next to him, One gesturing as he showed him where they had to go now, as if Three wasn't aware of where they were going. Sasha sat directly behind Three, not bothering to know if anybody wanted to sit there, but nobody complained. Two jumped onto the backseat, putting her leather jacket next to her, so nobody would sit there, leaving Seven and Four sitting next to each other and Five next to Eight.

She wanted to drive so badly. She never spent more than a few days without driving, emptying her head from every though her mind could imagine, the pain and the hate she had. But now, for almost five days, she was obliged to do anything but driving. Since One met her during that night, she drove once, into the car accident, and what happened next was history. She saw her own funeral and then came here, first day in the US. She sighed, listening to the other's talking, silently, hearing Four complaining about Beaver and One suddenly becoming aggressive about millenials – even pointing at Sasha who was just looking through the window. For the first time in forever, she missed home.

 _Feel_ was blasting in her trailer and she seriously hoped that nobody would bother her about it, she sang along these love songs she used to listen to with Magda. She couldn't cry, that wasn't Sasha, Sasha never cried right? And for fuck's sake, even if the night was coming, she couldn't sleep. Stupid time zones, she swore looking at the ceiling. Her brain couldn't readjust itself to this, to the sun going down, to night, to going to sleep. She was absolutely screwed, and tomorrow she would regret everything, she could bet on it. And as if a demon heard her, somebody knocked. Luckily, she hid her mother's picture before going out. “Comin,” she shouted before jumping off her couch in order to open the door. Five stood there, a bottle of wine in her hand along with some snacks. She looked absolutely amazing, with a genuine smile on her face as Sasha looked confused at her.

“I'm so sorry ti come like this, out of the blue you know,” she apologized, “but I thought you might need somebody to talk to during your first night here.” Sasha's mouth went agape. She never expected anybody to come here, and to be nice with her. She expected cold blooded assassins, working with each other, next to each other, but nothing more. And Five was here to prove her wrong, as the pizza diner did before. “If you want me to leave, there's no problem,” Five continued because of the lack of Sasha's reaction.

“No,” she finally said, finally processing the whole information. “I'm sorry if I gave you this impression just... Come in! I'm never saying no to wine and snacks, so you know.” She pushed herself aside to let her in, and then closed the door behind her.

“Great to know that somebody enjoys having wine sometimes here,” Five commented as she sat on the small couch, putting the bottle and the snacks on the small table in front of her.

Sasha looked for some glasses in her cupboard, but couldn't find any wine glass – as expected – so she reached for two cups instead. Cheap move, Sasha, and you know that.

“I hope you don't feel too left out,” Five finally said after a few moments of silence during which she looked at the impersonal trailer, too impersonal if Sasha had to qualify it.

“No, it's fine,” she lied, even if she had a small talk during the diner with them, she still felt a bit... Off. Which was pretty normal, they knew each other at least for a few months now. She was fresh meat, she had to expect that.

“They are pretty welcoming, but they all have their own little things you know,” Five pursued, as Sasha put the cups in front of her. “They clicked very well actually...”

“And you didn't?”

“It's not that,” Five quickly moved her hand before continuing, “but we're here so you won't have a lonely first night, right?” Her smile warmed instantaneously the room. Sasha opened the bottle and poured some wine in the cups, before they drank to this new life. “Any questions about your nex life in the desert?”

“Thanks for the whole set of products”, Sasha said, hoping it was Five's doing. But honestly, she couldn't imagine anyone else doing it. Proof was here, Five was the only one to reach out to her to the point of coming to stay during her first night here. Which was quite adorable.

“You're welcome, that's normal,” she replied, gesturing with her hand before grabbing one of the snacks on the table. “As soon as I knew we would have a new member I had to do something to welcome them properly! Because,” she pursued, her smile slowly fading away, “ when you're the doctor, you don't have much to do when the others are doing their “things” you know...”

“You had folders when I arrived,” Sasha remarked, taking another sip of wine.

“Medical folders,” she precised, “I became the team's nutritionist, doctor, and everything on a medical aspect from headaches to the weird buzz in their ears.”

“So much pressure,” Sasha commented, eyeing the snacks before deciding to grab one. “Especially when you are the one tempting me with these snacks, I hope this won't go into my record!”

“Hum, hum,” Five agreed, “stays between us. It's nice to have a girl to chat with,” she admitted after a while.”

“And Two...?”

“Former CIA agent, she's more into being an agent than chatting about snacks and products,” Five correcter her. “It's not like she's not feminine, she's badass and I respect that, but she's more into things I'm not really into..”

“Such as?”

“Guns? Strategies? It's her everyday life, it wasn't mine.” Sasha understood the duality, she was also torn between being part of the mafia, a tough girl but also a delicate ballerina, a girly and giggly girl from time to time. “And besides, I'm twenty-seven and she's thirty-six, I mean, a whole generation apart!”

“No Timberlake phase,” Eight mumbled.

“Exactly! Only One seems to know who Timberlake is, and Four told me that he never saw nothing in this man, bullshit,” she exclaimed.

“Was a hardcore fan, I confess. And Eminem's too.”

“No shit, Eminem was my life when I was studying!”

“And I'm only three years younger than you, that's insane that we have so much in common!” Sasha felt just like during these nights she spent with Magda, speaking about anything but mafia, about the shitty things that happened to them, about their childhood memories... About anything. And that was how she began to feel with Five. Just like home.

* * *

Freedom. The ultimate perk of being dead. Or boredom, boredom was more accurate than freedom, especially in Sasha's case. She felt useless. She started to drive again to take them to eat, to grab something to eat for them, to go shopping, every occasion was a great occasion to drive; but these occasions were a little bit too normal for her. She was accustomed to danger, to her blood pulsing in her veins as she waited outside of the building for the men to come back and to drive, as quickly as possible because who the hell knew, an adrenaline rush as they were shouting from fear of happiness. She adored these moments. And here, she sat behind the steering wheel, like a mother, drumming on it while waiting for the others to come back. She mostly drove Five to the pharmacy, playing some old music, singing alone with her and these were enjoyable rides. She couldn't say she didn't enjoy the other's company, but having to endure Four's _The Score_ playlist became something going on her nerves sometimes.

“ _Do you listen to anything but The Score,” she asked him once, as he was sitting next to her while Three sat on the backseat of the small Fiat. _

“ _No, he doesn't at all,” Three answered as he looked at what they bought, tapes, electronic devices and many other things that Sasha couldn't name. “He's on repeat since with this playlist since he came here.”_

“ _You don't get it,” Four tried to defend himself, looking at Three, “these are masterpieces!”_

“ _Why don't you listen to some Ukrainian songs,” Sasha finally asked, eyeing him from the corner of her eyes._

“ _Because I don't have to be a nationalist freak such as you are with Tulia.”_

“ _You're so rude, I'd like to drop you off right here an never come back,” Sasha answered as he gave her a cocky smile. “Pierdolo ty.”_

“ _You're so gaddamn lucky that it doesn't sound Ukrainian at all,” Four commented as Three began to chuckle a bit._

She missed the adrenaline, she missed it so badly, she wanted her reckless deeds back. And here, she had nothing, Wally the dog, One, Two and Three going nuts over informatics information, skateboards, Seven going to shoot things in the desert. She had Five, and Five was truly her blessing. The two of them weren't experts in any of these things, even if they tried sometimes, but everything they did wasn't what One promised them when he recruited them. Liar.

So, she spent some time in the desert, exploring mostly, to catch some “fresh” air in the middle of the hot desert, to empty her mind a bit by looking at the dust. She saw abandoned places from afar, houses probably left there since the dust bowl. Maybe not as abandoned as she thought, especially when she heard the noise of small wheels on the concrete. Cautiously, she approached the place, just as if she was on a mission – finally an adrenaline rush! – but quickly the rush faded, as she saw Four skateboarding in an empty pool, alone. She went off cover, going near the pool, arms crossed. He didn't notice her, until she began to speak.

“We never spoke about the pros,” she shouted as he rose his head to look at the person who disturbed him.

“Never really had the time to,” he replied as he stopped on the edge of the pool, not so far from her before going out of it. He rested on his skateboard, looking at her. “Now's a perfect time, shot your questions.'

“Since when being drunk and naked in Ukraine is normal,” she asked, a smile crossing her face.

“They don't have to know it isn't... Especially Seven, I like him to believe that shit,” Four admitted with a mischievous expression.

“No way,” she gasped rolling her eyes, before sitting on the edge of the pool. He made his way to join her, sitting right next to her as she began to move her legs. “Fucking missing the whole adrenaline of driving,” she said with a regretful tone, looking deep into the concrete. “I wish I could drive right now, not to the grocery store with your The Score,” she teased, “but for a true mission.”

“Skateboard,” he offered, as he pointed the skateboard laying next to him.

“You're joking, I'm not even able to stand on this shit!”

“Wasn't either until I tried,” he told her, “come on Eight, go and get your adrenaline rush!”

He put the skateboard next to her, with a little smirk, before jumping into the pool, landing perfectly on his feet. She hesitated. Adrenaline she wanted, adrenaline he could provide. After a few seconds, he let the skateboard roll down before getting to the ladder, because she wasn't a parkour expert and she needed her feet in case, you know, mission.

What a pitiful try she gave to skateboarding. Four explained everything to her, everything about the right balance and about being concentrated, focused and rolling with the wind. Of course, absolutely. She put her foot on the skateboard, hesitating as Four offered her his hand to help her. She seized it immediately and stood on the skateboard, shaking a bit.

“Now, I'm letting you go,” he warned her as she made big eyes.

“Don't you fucking dare Four!”

“You wanted adrenaline!”

“You're giving me death,” she complained as a child.

“Okay, give me your other hand then,” he finally said as she put her hand into his.

He began to walk, slowly making her move on the skateboard, swiftly. She shook like hell, feeling sweat drops on her back, as she looked on the concrete, not listening to what Four was telling her about keeping balance. She almost fell off, caught by Four's arm on her back. Slowly, she became more an more confident, not to the point of going alone, without Four's help, but mostly, she had fun, and maybe a small adrenaline rush during that afternoon.

“See, adrenaline's not that hard to find,” he told her with a smile as she went off from the skateboard.

“I almost experienced death, and you fucking know that,” she replied pushing the skateboard to him. “But that was a nice experience, not as much fun as driving while the cops are behind you or a gang is following you but nice.”

“You must compare my teaching skills to some mafia,” Four complained, rising his eyes to the sky.

“Yes I must, I'm a dramatic Polish girl.”

“Oh you Polish,” he mumbled.

“At least, we don't listen to _The Score_ everyday.”

“Fuck you Eight.”

“Yeah, you'll fuck whoever you want if you want to, millenials,” they heard as they rose their heads and saw One standing on the edge of the pool. “Sorry to interrupt your... Thing? But Eight, I need you to study Paris' avenues, because, you know, mission?”

“No shit,” she whispered, eyes already sparkling.

“Yeah, no shit. And you too Four, you're coming because you'll need to find spots.”

“Count on me!”

Finally, a mission.


	4. Eight's a Troublemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha learns that Easterners are troublemakers by nature.

“A mini mission” as Four called it himself. Sasha looked at the blond man again as he casually snapped that in the middle of the meeting; nobody seemed to pick up on this, nobody was surprised. Sasha had to roll with it. She could feel Two's excitement as One explained that the next mission was held in Paris in order to gather some information, and as a French woman she couldn't hide her joy to be back in her motherland. And Paris, the city of love and pigeons as Two said herself, was an amazing city to visit when you had some time – before the mission obviously, because they had to work on everything once there.

This sounded dangerous and exciting, everything Sasha needed to make this work. She had waited for this for too long and now, only now, One was fulfilling his promise. The only thing she had to do? Drive. Drive around Paris as fast as she could, the best she could, not letting police get them. She could do that, she was Kubica for a reason. She didn't need to know what the real purpose of the mission was, One would explain later what these information were for, she only needed to know Paris in a short amount of time to be able to nail everything. And she would do it right.

One left her with Four, as the others had to prepare their own roles during the mission, Three and Two had to be sure about the passports and all the legal stuff while watching out for the men they were about to meet, One was still gathering proofs against the man he had to meet and how to get the information out of him and quickly all of this with Five's help as she looked into his family's health problems. The only reason Eight and Four were paired up was for the purpose of being effective while there, not allowing themselves an off-guard moment for the team's safety. And Four knew how important it was, and how it worked for them in Florence, just before losing Six. Something was off, and he could sense it, Six's presence still echoing in his mind as he prepared for the next mission. Because he could never get rid of Six in his own mind, Seven told him to not to because trying to forget it hurts much more than accepting, but Four's wounds were still fresh and as much as he wanted, he could not think about Six when he discussed with Eight about the plan.

“You're listening,” she asked him, tapping on a spot on the map in front of them as he only hummed. “So, if you stay on top of the Arc de Triomphe thing, you'll be able to tell me where the cops are coming from and which exit will be the best.”

“But I won't be able to climb up and down from there,” he answered, looking at her from under his hoodie.

“So you'll use stairs? Like normal people?”

“Shut up, no stairs for me,” he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“But you'll have no other choice, you heard Two, you won't be able to jump from the middle of the Arc to another building,” her exasperation could be heard in her voice as she looked up at Two.

“I was on the top of the Duomo, I'll jump down from there too,” he stated, looking at the map now and watching the names of the streets.

“You're unbelievable, jaki glupek,” she whispered, hoping he wouldn't understand that she told he was a huge moron.

“We said no more using our mother tongues,” he said, frustrated because he couldn't understand Polish properly, for the moment. He sounded like a whining child.

“Do I look like I care?”

“Definitely should.”

“Okay, okay,” she finally agreed, putting her hands up in surrender. “So, I leave that to you for your location I just want you to be able to tell me where I can go or not, I'll mostly need a view on the Champs.”

“This whole Arc de Don't Care is a nightmare for a parkour expert!” he complained, putting his hand on the Place de l'Etoile. This location was definitely a nightmare, too wide, too open, Paris' architecture was too wide to jump from a building to another, especially in the places Sasha wanted to drive.

“Another bright idea then,” she teased, as some of her blond her fell off from her ponytail.

“Quartier Latin,” he said with the best French accent he could, with a smile on his face.

“You're joking, I won't be able to do anything from there.”

“I'm not joking, perfect place,” he assured as he came closer to her, putting a finger on the Quartier Latin. “Three can stand with a car on the Place de l'Etoile and block the police, until you go down there and I'll work my things up there.”

“You just want to see Notre Dame, don't you,” she asked, a grin on her face as he rolled his eyes.

“Just, leave it to me, I'm the expert here Eight. Trust me.”

“I'll trust you,” she promised. “I hope you won't fail your promise.”

“Never.”

They stood there, in silence, looking at the map for a long moment, Sasha trying to memorize the streets she would drive in, just because she wanted the mission to go as smoothly as she imagined it in her head. Two told her that she would take her on a small visit of Paris before the mission, but she wanted to impress the whole crew, showing that she could be useful, even more than what the could think. Her pride wanted to prove to them her worth, to show them that her fragile silhouette was only a facade, protecting her inner Kubica from being discovered. She wanted to impress more than anything.

“Don't die,” the words escaped from Four's mouth as Sasha still looked at the map. She rose her head towards him, he meticulously avoided her gaze as if it would hurt. As if he was truly hurt.

“What,” she whispered back, not truly understanding.

“I said what I said,” he couldn't repeat those words, it hurt too much. “Last time I built up a plan like this, I... We lost our driver, Six. I just don't want this to happen again,” he said, looking into her eyes now with pain, some kind of despair. Everything Sasha didn't knew he could convey through his gaze.

“I'll be fine,” she reassured him. “I'm called Kubica for a reason, Four.”

“Watch out your hand then, we never know if the curse is on you too,” he slightly joked before looking back at the map. She truly hoped he was right.

* * *

Looking up to the sky, looking up to her mother, Eight sat in front of her trailer, as usual now, her bare legs sunbathing. February, and it was so hot in here, no snow but dust, no ice but dust, no trees but dust. Nothing but dust. Her mind still healing from leaving her friends behind, leaving Marta and Piotr who became another family to her and now, now she had to build everything from scratches. Everything went well for the moment, the Ghosts being welcoming and caring, mostly Five being her anchor for the past months and Four from time to time, when they exchanged about their countries, joked about the lack of white Christmas, even listened to traditional music sometimes – when Four decided it wasn't the time to listen to _The Score_.

As she thought about how her life was fucked up now, she felt some shade on her legs, a small chill, goosebumps. She opened one eye to see Four, standing in front of her, his hoodie on his head and his hands in the large pockets he has. He smiled at her, as she groaned.

“Don't you see I'm in the middle of something right here,” she asked him sarcastically, protecting her eyes from the sun as she looks up at him.

“You seem _extremely_ busy,” he emphasized. “I absolutely shouldn't disturb you to take you to this Eastern shop or whatever,” he finally mumbled, turning back as Sasha's mouth went agape.

“Fuck,” she swore when she heard _Polish_ , “there is a fucking Polish shop right here? In the middle of this fucking desert?” Her excitement and surprise could be heard in her tone, as her eyes began to shine slightly. Four looked back at her, with a grin.

“Planning taking you there because you asked me how I managed to survive in here without _real_ food,” he explained.

“You're an angel Four!” she exclaimed before standing up. “Wait a minute, I'm taking my sunglasses and my wallet and to the shop we go!”

“Waiting here then.”

She clapped her hands in excitement as she went in her trailer, looking for the glasses Five gave her one day as she saw her struggling with the whole sun situation, because Sasha never wore sunglasses, never really needed these. But here, everything was different. And she needed sunglasses. Her wallet in her pocket now, Four and her got to the small car the Ghosts owned, making sure that nobody saw them going out – they would deal with responsibilities later, and how unprofessional it was to go out the base a day before the travel to Paris. This escapade was everything she needed, something new and fresh as she listened to their playlists, mostly fighting over knowing whose would play now to finally switch from one playlist to the other everytime one had enough. At some point, Sasha mentioned Valentines Day, as they already were in February, and listening to _The Score,_ and how she would offer something to her mother on this special day. Four frowned, telling her that it was a really weird tradition, to witch Sasha's answer was putting on some _Tulia_ on the radio as Four started to apologize – for fuck's sake no more of this music, it's not weird stop it!

Four told her to stop next to a few blocks, small houses in yellow pastel and few cars. She saw it “Eastern Market”. Heaven on Earth probably. And as they stepped into the shop, the man at the counter greeted Four with a wide smile, and even a small talk, which Sasha ignored in order to explore the place, almost drooling. She saw everything, she saw deliciousness and finesse, she saw everything she missed. From pierogi to ogorki kiszone. But mostly, she saw kabanosy, these small sticks of dried meat for which she craved for days eating pizza and fries. The food of Gods. A childish smile appeared on her face as she grabbed three packs of these, Four saw everything and couldn't stop himself from laughing. She showed him her middle finger, as a simple answer and disappeared between the stalls. Overwhelmed by pure joy, she walked around the shop, gathering sweets, snacks and all the unholy things she shouldn't tell Five she had. She wasn't able to know that Sasha's diet was spiraling out right now.

Her arms charged with her treasures, she arrived to the checkout, Four already standing there with a pack of beers. The man looked at her with a knowing look and a smile. He definitely knew.

“New in here,” he asked looking at her and then at Four.

“New colleague from Poland,” Four said looking at the man with a mocking smile, “she already misses home as you can see.” Sasha rolled her eyes, not wanting to explain everything to this unknown man at all and just to enjoy her food as soon as possible.

“Always difficult to move from your homeland, young lady,” the man confirmed, reassuring her as he put her groceries into a paper bag.

“True, especially when you know nobody.”

“But you have a friend here now,” the man told her as he pointed first at Four and then himself. “Easterners are one big family, especially in exile.”

“Holly words of truth,” Four completed happily as he put the pack of beers on the counter. “Take the beers too, I'm paying the things,” he pursued as Sasha shook her head in disagreement. “C'mon, don't do that to me, I just want to pay: no biggie!”

“... Fine,” she finally whispered, not wanting to put on a scene.

“You're lucky to have a friend like Iwan, young lady,” the man said winking at Sasha, and Sasha looked at Four, a bit dazzled, not understanding what had just happened and then, the man's question blew her mind: “and what's your name, young lady?”

“Malgorzata,” the name rolled on her tongue, her mother's name. She gathered all the remaining energy in her mind, every ounce of conviction into this: she became Malgorzata for a moment. “Yes, Iwan is really a great friend,” she then whispered, trying to process the information.

The man winked looking at Four as he just sighed and rolled his eyes before putting some money on the counter, Sasha thanked the man and they went out the shop. Her mind still blown by what happened in front of her, their names... Four would never be _that_ stupid, right?

“Your name's Iwan,” she asked him, as he carried the groceries and the beer pack in his hands. He turned around to face her, sighing.

“If your name's Malgorzata then my name's Iwan,” he said, readjusting quickly what he was carrying. “Nice evasive reply by the way.”

“Had to find something that sounded as Polish as possible,” she said, putting her hands in her short's pockets.

“Nice. I mostly go by Iwan when I'm out here, but I have many other names: the perk of being dead,” he concluded with a warm tone until they reached the car and she opened the trunk for him. “You can have as many personalities as you wish. Just ask Three for help, he's our best creator out here.”

“Three,” she repeated, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, he'll find you a fancy name, fancy props, fancy everything. He's more of our disguise expert than a hitman,” he admitted as he closed the trunk. “I saw him and Two wearing wigs and nose prosthetic in Vegas, outrageously weird. But nobody caught them.”

“I can't wait to see what he prepared for the mission in Paris then,” she chuckled, already having a few things in mind when they'll be back at the base. She needed to have a look.

“You're absolutely not ready, nobody is. I'm usually out of the disguise thing because I'm mostly in the air so... Oh yeah,” he snapped out of the blue, “be ready to hear him practicing French in his mic, he always practices the language of the country we're in.”

“Got it.”

“And he'll want to impress Two, so sometimes horny talks,” he warned her with a little smile, “in Hong Kong he wasn't in best shape and wanted to fuck Two in the elevator.”

“No shit,” she said, almost not surprised about it. “I'm sure Two wanted to kill him.”

“You're absolutely right.”

“Well, let's go before we get in serious troubles with One,” Sasha concluded, putting her hand on the back of the car.

“I'm the troublemaker in this team, get used to it,” he replied, laughing a bit as he went up the front part of the car.

“You met another troublemaker Four, twice as troublesome as you,” she teased him still standing behind.

“We'll see that in Paris.”

Yes, they would see.


	5. Eight’s Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha lives her first mission as the Ghost of Kubica. Adrenaline is there.

Sasha's hands covered in white gloves wandered on the steering wheel. She had waited for this moment since she joined the team, and here it came: she was in Paris, waiting for One and Two to come out of the Villa Saïd in the 16th Arrondissement in Paris to step on it. This was the adrenaline rush she needed right here and right now, and nothing else. Five sat by her side, nervously checking the entrance of the Villa, expensive cars going in and out every few minutes, minutes nearer to the moment Sasha could drive as she always did: Kubica had to be awaken. She sat in a nice black car, a black Renault RS, slender and not very noticeable, nothing too flashy as she was once told by Piotr and from then stuck to that rule. Unless told otherwise. But now, they had to blend in, as rich tourists waiting for anything, their husbands, their friends, girlfriends? Who cared as long as Kubica sat behind the steering wheel.

Three proudly called the two of them “bonitas” as he picked their disguises, flowery dresses and satin shawls on their hair, glasses for Five and none for Eight. They looked adorable, nothing suspicious in this chic district, and that was the whole point. Sitting in the front seat, nobody remarked them as they seemed to carelessly chat about the new Louis Vuitton's collection, the one with red scarves and leather bags, whereas Eight asked Five if she had any new information coming from Two. But still nothing. No blond head in sight, nor One's face, no running, no people covered in blood. As a small talk, Five told her how Two got injured in Florence, and what a bitchy patient she was moving around and even going out as she lost a shit ton of blood to shoot some of the guys: this women was unbelievable. Sasha smiled, hands stiff. She could feel the leather under her palms, she felt the engine, this clean machine only waiting to go faster and faster. She could sense it.

“Bonjour demoiselles,” Eight heard in her ear along with Five: Three's voice from the car parked near the Place de l'Etoile.

“Something wrong,” Sasha asked, ready to speed up at any moment.

“Twenty one still inside,” he asked.

“Yes, they are,” Five replied looking at Eight, a bit nervous. “This shouldn't take too long if... Mierda, here they are,” she shouted as she saw from the corner of her eye One, covered with blood and Two having his back as they advanced towards the car. Five went to the backseat, already taking her medical supplies as Sasha had her hand on the lever, ready to go.

“What the hell you did,” Sasha asked, as One was put into the car by Two before she shot some bullets towards the villa and making her way next to Eight.

“He fucked up,” Seven's voice resonated in her ear. He stayed on the top of the building facing the villa, ready to snipe, and apparently he saw the whole scene.

“Go,” Two shouted, as Sasha put her foot down, wheels screeching, One's head bumping on the door as Five tried to make him stay still, him and his bleeding arm.

“Gentle millenial,” he screamed, all painful and fussy.

“Fasten your fucking seat belt, you” Sasha yelled as she sped up on the Avenue Foch.

“Idiot,” Two completed calmly. “To the Place de l'Etoile. He got fucking shot as I tried to gently talk with the man hiding his stick. And this idiot out there threatened him.”

“Three, path's clear,” Sasha's voice was strong, waiting for a reply.

“For the moment yes, staying here until Seven joins me,” he confirmed as she heard a car following them on the avenue.

“I'm not an idiot,” One protested, wiggling and Five had no other choice than slapping his head. “What was that for,” he exclaimed.

“Don't move or I'll be obliged to cut your arm off or take you to a hospital,” Five seemed stressed, as sweat drops appeared on her forehead, but she didn't lose cool.

Sasha drove, wheels screeching, the engine roaring under her control, One cursing along with Five and Two looking peacefully at the road. Three made a good job, she heard him faking a foreign delivering some stuff to the souvenir shop around there, the mafia men weren't pleased at all as they cursed him, making Two smile under her breath. But Sasha had no time to laugh, focused and tense: everything she loved in this job. She remembered perfectly the ways she had to take to reach the Quartier Latin – without Two's help – to reach Four, waiting for them on an old building. A grand finale, he said to her with a huge grin. Nothing good, absolutely nothing good.

“Where are you,” she heard Four's voice inside her head now, as she tried to avoid the cars in front of them and not get caught by the guys behind as Two was ready to shoot some of them.

“Not so fucking far from Notre Dame with dogs... Pigs behind me, three cars for the moment” she correcter herself, One's cursing distracting her from talking as Five scolded him endlessly. “And the mafia of course, five cars. Hope your plan is bomb or I'll have to speed my way to the 91 as soon as I can!”

“We'll be able to lose half of them, pigs and mafia, so be ready to drive fast: trust me!”

“Do I have a fucking other option,” she yelled, a little smirk on her face as she avoided another car while turning next to the BVH Marais, feeling alive and ready. “I guess I have to trust the Eastern guy!”

“Hey, lovey dovey Eastern people,” One interrupted as he laid on the backseat, trying his best to not move as Five tried to get the bullet out of his arm, “we're not on a love mission, you're not Three and Two, so fucking do your thing before I lose my fucking arm,” he yelled, Two rolled her eyes, before looking at One who just mouthed _yes I know_.

“Coming to you,” Sasha replied, ignoring One's whining, focused on the mission, and the grand finale.

She turned down the road after the bridge, arriving until one of the universities, this was the old building Four talked about, ready to be destroyed it seemed. She sped up, as the cops and the mafia were trying to catch them. She prayed for Four's plan to work out, truly. And if not, improvisation. She improvised many times, in a city she knew but here she felt like in a damn maze, and was still impressed by her ability to find her way out there. As she entered the large street next the building, she felt gas. No way. She sped up, fingers crossed, hoping they wouldn't get injured even more. A great noise, dirt all around, the building fell. Right on the road, right on the cars following them. And now, she couldn't tell how many of them followed them, but she had a moment to lose them, taking another path, and fitting in the flow of the cars. To Corbeil-Essonnes. The place police feared and French mafia too, because these people were something. And luckily, they loved the ones messing with Frenchies.

“Four, do you copy,” Sasha asked, as the adrenaline rush came down. On the road around Paris, she almost lost all of them. Almost. “Four, do you copy,” she insisted, as Two looked at her, intrigued. “Three, you're still in Paris?”

“Oui, mes beautés,” he replied as she could almost imagine Seven rolling his eyes as Three spoke.

“Four went mia,” Sasha said, focused on the road between One's groans.

“We leave the kid behind, he'll be fine,” she heard. One's voice. She tightened her grip around the steering wheel. No, she wouldn't lose her Eastern partner in crime. She gave him a dark look through the mirror before addressing Five.

“Five, if he says that again don't you fucking dare taking that bullet off his arm, and if you do I'll fucking kill him myself,” she threatened as Two chuckled under her breath, nodding as she looked at Eight, before turning her head back abruptly at the window.

“Don't worry Eight, we won't leave him again, as One wanted,” Seven said through the device.

“Again,” Sasha exclaimed, her voice full of reproach. “You're a sick team, and a sick man One!”

“Stop talking and drive,” he retorted, hissing between his teeth as Five still tried to get that bullet off his arm.

“We're not leaving until we find this problematic boy of ours,” Seven said and Sasha could hear Three's humming.

“You see these guys, you see them,” One shouted, moving all around,as a car sped up until reaching them and Two grabbed her gun and pulled the trigger. One less. Five just sighed.

“We need to lose them, you can do this,” Two asked and Eight looked at them, smirking.

“I absolutely can,” Sasha replied. Speeding up? She was born to do this.

* * *

Pretty quickly, Sasha managed to lose them all, with Two's help and her knowledge of the roads here – something Sasha missed truly to master this evasion properly. On the backseat, Five managed to get the bullet out of One's arm, not without him cursing for many, many long minutes as her and Two were trying to totally lose these guys. And they succeeded. And so did Seven and Three, finding Four.

“Good news,” Seven's voice almost blasted in everyone's ears, “Four's alive, his mic went off during the explosion.”

“Great,” One groaned, as Sasha sighed in relief. She grew close to all of them, but him and Five especially, and she dreaded the moment she would lose them under any circumstances. She already lost Piotr and Magda. “See, Eight? Nothing to be worried about with Four, he's a grown boy!”

“Yeah, thought you were too but you screamed during the whole thing as Five was trying to get that bullet out your arm,” she replied, driving calmly as Two just nodded. Eight made her laugh, sharp remarks, really nice to hear.

“... You have the right to remain silent,” he pursued and looked at Two to change the subject. “So, the usb key?”

“I have it, don't worry One.”

“I do worry, we never know with you,” he complained as Two rolled her eyes.

As Sasha drove towards the hotel they were staying in, Two and One discussed about the usb key, some details about what they needed there and how to get round the CIA's protections against intruders on their files. Three and One would certainly work on that.

They arrived in the hotel almost forty minutes before the others. Sasha was amazed by the calm of the man at the reception desk when he saw One's arm covered with blood, cursing as he held it. Two spoke to him in French, explaining some things Sasha had no idea about, as she looked at Five who just looked helplessly at her to escape One's ramblings. A sound, the doors of the elevator opened and two men with two massive guns came out, not even casting a look at the small group gathered around the desk. Two told them that this place was safe for any criminal, and that here having a gun was nothing abnormal, but seeing it with her own eyes, as she was accustomed to hide her weapons in Poland, made it look even more surreal than it actually was.

They had three rooms to share, Eight with Five, Two with Three and the rest of the group together. As soon as the group arrived to the room where the three men were about to stay, One decided to display all his electronic devices in order to begin to hack the whole key, with Two's knowledge. Five was still searching through the medical bag they carried in the car for some medicine for One, and trying to stitch his wound, as he typed on the keyboard. And Sasha, Eight, stood next to the large window from where she could see the parking lot, looking for the boys to arrive. And she saw them, her face lightened up instantly. Four was the first one to jump out the car, his hoodie on his blond locks and all covered with dust, she could see it distinctly from there. Seven carried his gun in one hand, not seeming to care too much about people who could see him – he must have noticed some men carrying weapons here – and Three had his sunglasses on, and walked confidently towards the entrance. Sasha told to the group that they arrived. A dozen of minutes later, Three opened the door, carrying a bag with him, followed by Seven and Four.

“Was it all worth it,” Seven asked as he put his gun on the bed that was his now.

“One says it is,” Two replied, looking over One's shoulder. “The man we got had many information, I worked with him in the CIA, and that key is our key to some true good information,” she continued, putting her hand on her hip.

“So what's the status of the research,” Three asked, standing next to Two.

“Either you fucking let me work this out, or you go fuck in the elevator or whatever,” One snapped, and Five put some medicine next to his left hand with a glass of water. She took a deep breath.

“Nasty move,” Seven commented. Four, who remained silent until now, leaning against the wall, only nodded with a hum.

“So sorry I'm not a romantic,” One ironically apologized, “but either you two move your asses and help me a bit with this or this mission will me meaningless!”

“I'm out,” Seven said, standing up to avoid the argument or the tension between the three of them.

“Coming with you,” Four stated, following him.

“I'm staying here Eight,” Five said to you, as you gave her a look. “Need to watch this bad boy right here,” she precised, pointing One's arm.

“Joining you guys,” Sasha finally said, Four still holding the door for her.


	6. Eight's Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha shares her thoughts and somehow finds comfort in a friend.

Sasha looked up at the sky, the day was intense. The late afternoon sun bathed her skin as she sat on the edge of the backrest of the bench the three of them were on. Seven was smoking his third cigarette by the time, and its smoke spread around her, perfuming her hair that she had let out of the shawl earlier. How uncomfortable she felt in that flowery dress. She regretted not changing her outfit before the coming of the guys to be totally at ease, but now it was too late and she had no intention to go up and to listen to One rambling and screaming – as she did in the car, while driving.

“Is One always such a pain in the ass when you're going on missions,” she finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence they were in for about ten minutes now.

“He's even worse than that,” Four snapped before Seven could actually answer, which made him laugh and cough at the same time. “Let's be real mate, he's absolutely a pain in the ass!”

“I can only agree,” Seven commented, after this coughing moment. “I heard about Florence, your first mini-mission,” Seven said and Four simply nodded, “and I was here after Hong Kong... Yeah, he's absolutely a pain in the ass.”

“Great to know,” Sasha sighed, throwing her head back in annoyance. “He's always so 'leave them alone, they'll be fine' too?” This question burned her lips since the moment he told her to not worry about Four, about a teammate. Her new family. And family is to be protected. Especially when this family is the only link to the living world.

“Left me behind two times, once he came to rescue me,” Four whispered, looking down on his feet on the bench. Sasha could hear sadness in his voice, and she looked at him for longer than intended. Seven threw his cigarette in the sand. “Wanker...”

“Buddy, you remember Hong Kong,” Seven asked before putting his hand on Four's shoulder and Four's puppy eyes rose to look at him. “The boat in the last deadly mission? The desert situation? The infiltration? This morning?”

“Always you,” Four snapped, and she felt hurt. So he didn't even notice that she wanted to put a bullet into One's head. And then it struck her. 'Again'. This was what Seven said to her, 'we won't leave him again'. Sasha remembered how mad she felt in that moment, how her blood boiled for somebody wanting to let one of their teammates behind, how it pissed her off. “No offense,” Four said looking at her before turning back to Seven, “but nobody seemed to care this morning. Fuck me if I'm wrong but...”

“I did,” Sasha interrupted him abruptly. She looked into his eyes with her pale blue ones, and she couldn't seize the emotion in them. Confusion? Gratefulness? Happiness?

“She told Five that if One tells another time that he leaves you behind she'd kill him,” Seven completed and Four seemed absolutely lost. He had lost contact with all of them after the explosion, and he knew that only Seven would look after him during the mission – dragging Three with him. But he never expected Eight to be on his side. But he should have. “That was a power move, girl,” he commented, presenting her his fist to bump it and she gladly did it.

“Nice to know that others care,” Four whispered, ashamed of his assumption about her. She looked back at him, her hand on his shoulder now, and she smiled.

“People do care,” Eight assured, with a comforting smile on her face. “We're not bloody murderers.”

“Three was,” Seven jokingly commented and Sasha just rolled her eyes before looking at him.

“You're ruining the comforting emotional moment now, Seven,” she complained with a chuckle before taking her hand off Four's shoulder and joining her hands.

“My friend, often told me so,” Seven said, a faint smile on his face before looking at her, eyes lighted up. “You heard the story about my friend who cried his eyes out during my funeral and made a full show so One couldn't stand it and made me leave my own funeral?”

“He what,” Sasha repeated, amused by the description of his friend but mostly for One's annoyance.

“This story never fails to make me laugh,” Four said and straightened his back.

“So basically, the guy cried when he watched the Barbie Swan Lake when we were little, no joke,” Seven began with enthusiasm. And for a second, Sasha spaced out.

Ballet. Ballerinas. She missed dancing sometimes. Whenever the subject was brought up, she could feel her whole body tense. She remembered every move she once made, every feeling she had, her mother's eyes too. Sasha tried to focus on Seven's words, but the more she wanted to forget, the more her brain tried to remember. Not too attentively, she listened to Seven's story, smiled and tried to hide the best she could her sad expression.

How she wished to be fifteen again, and to feel her mother's hand on her shoulder.

“You're alright Eight?” Four's voice brought her back to the world of the living, not letting her fully drift away.

“Yes, yes,” she quickly replied, with a little smile. “I spaced out for a moment, nothing to worry about.”

“Still the mission on your mind,” Seven asked, his hand reaching for another cigarette.

“Yeah and... Ballet,” she finally admitted. The words hurt as they came out of her throat. She couldn't believe that she brought this subject herself.

“People tend to block on that part, believe me, Four also did,” Seven said mockingly as Four just slap his back in response which made Seven laugh even more.

“Well, I used to do ballet.” Here she was, sharing her life with these people. This was the fault of the French sunset, its orange colors and the breeze caressing her cheeks.

“Like, ballet ballet,” Four asked, and Sasha rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, you know, the parkour but you do all in ballet shoes and you bleed and basically you know, nothing too heavy,” she replied with a smirk before Seven picked up on that.

“This explains a lot about you,” and she looked at him, a little bit confused, “you are disciplined and reckless, and you look angelic.” This was literally the first time somebody associated what she did with discipline first, and not being fragile. Not being someone to take care of, but someone who could take care of themselves, someone who was reckless.

“The perfect combo to become a good driver,” she laughed, not being able to hide how happy she was about Seven not judging her fragile.

“The perfect combo to become a good person,” Four added, and Sasha just looked at him, struck by what he just said. This was sweet and kind. His eyes were shining, he was probably grateful and she smiled, thankful.

* * *

Sasha spent the night talking with Five, both of them venting about One – who clearly felt better now – and his mood swings that both of them had to experience during that day. Laying one next to the other, they exchanged bed secrets just like the ladies did a long time ago. Sasha spoke about her mother even more than usual, mentioning how Seven talked about ballet today and how it brought back some memories to her.

How vivid her mother's expression was. How vivid her mother's eyes were in front of hers. How painful it was to feel this way again, as she was so far from home, far from where her heart stayed. She hid her mouth under the blankets, as Five looked at her with a tender smile. Sasha had found somebody who would listen to her, somebody she could listen to, somebody she wouldn't be ashamed to tell what she felt. Five became her friend. And she would never exchange this soul sister for anything in the world. She smiled as she looked at her, and Five giggled as she snuggled against hair. Amelia. Her name was Amelia. This was what One never wanted, but they became like sister in so little time, able to kill one for the other, protecting one another, living and dying for each other. Just like with Marta; but here, she could only rely on Amelia and that was everything she needed now.

* * *

“Eastern Europe, prostitution, kidnapping and killing,” One began to say as Sasha crossed her arms on her chest looking at him, she almost rolled her eyes.

“You're making a podcast for a lame tv channel,” Four commented, sitting on the table of their headquarters – as One wanted them to call the room in which they had everything for their work.

“Millenial, don't you interrupt the...”

“Boomer,” Sasha asked, and One gave her a death glare which made Two chuckle and Amelia just sat there, trying to not laugh too much.

“Will do as if millenials weren't trying to sabotage my plan,” One commented before looking back at the screen and clicking on it to show them the picture of a woman: Mila Babicheva.

Target number two. She was the government, the puppet master and a killer queen with gunpowder and amphetamine. Sasha had heard about her back then, when Piotr spoke about a new deal with the Russian mafia, but she never really paid attention to it and eventually Piotr seemed to let the idea go. And now, she heard about her crimes – or she truly acknowledged them, because before joining the savior crew, she had no real problem knowing that people killed people because of interest, no, but then she saw the sad truth One presented during his powerpoint presentation. She saw the girls being saved by some policemen, the ones kidnapped to work in nice neon pink houses without having the chance to see the light again, she saw the poverty the government made, she saw the pain in people's eyes. She saw whatever she refused to see because of her hate for her father. She saw what she was once part of and she was ashamed. Her mother would be ashamed.

So she joined the Ghosts. And now had to listen to One, in the desert they came back in after their mission in Paris and the information Two and Three managed to collect with the usb key. The Lady in Rouge, she seemed to like French. She owned everything from the air the people breathed to the vodka they drank – Four found that cliché, but totally accurate. Her puppets were docile, and everybody seemed do love and respect her – just like you love the person who can kill you with a snap of a finger. And there was the plan: infiltration of the said mafia. Not a big deal, not until One revealed who he wanted to be the infiltrates.

“So who you're sending for the local mafia queen,” Seven asked, furrowing his eyebrows and looking at Sasha and at One one after the other.

“National nationalist mafia queen,” One quickly corrected before changing the slides, “besides we can't do this Murat style because she has a strong fanbase...”

“Did he just used the word fanbase,” Four asked, looking at Sasha who just rose her shoulders.

“So I'm sending Two,” he continued and Two shook her golden hair in agreement.

“Nice, always dreamed about being a Slav girl,” she said with a smirk and Three winked at her.

“Trial by fire, Eight you're going in.” Sasha fluttered her eyelashes in astonishment. What had he in mind by sending her back to the mafia which was so close to her home country? She looked at Amelia, slightly confused but when she gave her a reassuring smile, she relaxed a bit.

“Nice to be back in the business,” she commented before looking closely at the picture of the woman with red hair.

“Four you're enrolled too,” One continued, throwing at Four a beanie he had next to him for no apparent reason – probably because Four stopped listening. “You'll be the fool card, the free man, blah blah,” One continued gesturing at him.

“Wanker,” Four commented under his breath.

“Three, Five and Seven – odd numbers – are staying here with me. Not to be touchy or whatever but you guys are too... Exotic.” Five arched an eyebrow, staring at him.

“Exotic,” she repeated.

“That sounds racist,” Seven added.

“Some Eastern people tend to be racist,” Sasha replied, not too proudly and Four slightly nodded in agreement. “A loud minority, skinheads we call them and usually they have close ties with the mafia.” She looked at Five with a caring look, what horrible things mafia could have done to her if she was in. “Besides, with Four we know more or less the Slav area, we'll just need to give the memo to Two.”

“Perfect,” she said, detangling her blonde hair with her fingers as Three put a hand on her shoulder.

“So, now we have a plan,” One concluded. “But, for the moment we need more information about the whole thing, how to introduce you to the mafia, to build your personas...”

“Count on me, papi,” Three said with a large smile on his lips. This guy had some ideas.


	7. Eight's Weronika

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha becomes Weronika, and Four becomes Nikita. A hooker and a thief.

“We're having a movie night, you want to join us Eight,” Four asked her with his head only inside her trailer after he opened the door.

After the whole meeting, she had to stay alone and to think. To think about her coming back into the mafia, again. She would lie if she said that she wasn't scared. She absolutely was. And she didn't want to bother the others with her feelings – not again – so she withdrew for a longer moment. She feared an impromptu encounter with one of the people from her previous life, she wouldn't know how to handle this encounter. She wouldn't know how to lie to them, to these people who once called her family. Sometimes, she regretted that decision she took during that night. And even if she knew that Three was about to find a plan for the three of them, she was nervous. Yet excited to know who she was about to be in this another life, her third one apparently.

And Four showed up, out of nowhere offering her a movie night. An offer she couldn't refuse. She sighed only before getting up to follow Four, under the bare sky dotted with stars.

“Ready to be back on tracks,” he asked her, with his hands buried in the pocket of his blue hoodie.

“As I'll ever be,” Sasha replied with a little smile. “But for real, it's just... Too much. Like, I left them and I'm joining them again only after a couple of months? That's just crazy.”

“We'll have to handle this,” he resumed the problem with this only sentence. “”Let's hope that Three will give us a nice role to play because I just can't stand being either out of that game or the delivery-boy,” he complained before they reached his trailer as Sasha giggled.

“I'm sure you're making a great delivery boy,” she teased him as she stepped inside.

“Oh shut up,” he reacted as he rolled his eyes.

Seven and Amelia were already laying on Four's couch. It was really the first time that she went into his trailer for another purpose than work, and apparently when his trailer didn't look like a total mess full of maps, it seemed pretty decent. The large burgundy couch seemed to be pretty comfy, and full of unhealthy food – but with Amelia's supervision, everything was allowed here – which were good news. Seven and Amelia stopped arguing for a second about the movie they were about to chose – just to greet Sasha and Four – before demanding them to pick a side. Space Jam or Home Alone. It hurt Sasha to let Seven win, but she had to admit that Space Jam was something, and she got a handful of popcorn thrown onto her face from Amelia when she picked his side.

“No junk food for you,” she threatened Sasha as she stuck her tongue out.

“No, have some pity,” Sasha said, as she sat next to Amelia and Four sat between her and Seven.

“Have some pity for those with taste,” Seven added making things even worse as he clicked on the laptop in order to start the movie.

“You're the next on my list, Seven!” They shared a laugh before the movie started.

Sasha rested her back against the back of the couch, Amelia's head on her shoulder during the movie. And from time to time, she felt like dozing off. She caught herself fluttering her eyelashes in order to stay awake, and felt strangely warm when she opened her eyes after missing a few scenes. Four had put a blanket on the two of them – Amelia and her – and Sasha found her head on Four's shoulder as they were asleep now, all of them. For a moment, she felt a warm feeling coming from her chest, she felt safe and home, with all of them, with Seven by her side, Amelia - her new sister – and Four – her Slav mate. Mostly with Four for some reasons.

* * *

Three's plan was way more than perfect, it was sublime. Dreaded and admired. Sasha couldn't have asked for a better disguise and a better character to impersonate. She chewed her gum as she wrapped a strand of hair around her index. These shorts were outrageous, just like Weronika. Three insisted very much on this girl's poor manners and her easy virtue. She apparently was supposed to be a hooker, a good driving hooker who used to seduce her clients to let her boyfriend – Nikita, who was the brain of the couple – steal from these people. As much as Sasha, Four had to change his look, fully. He got a handful of long-sleeved shirts with very original patterns to wear which suited him – not.

The Ghosts spent month trying to get some information about Mila's gang in the US, about somebody who would come there and give them an opportunity to introduce themselves. And the opportunity was called Wasyl Petrotchenko. One of the Lady in Rouge's man. He was about to close a deal and to have a little accident with a too curious man about what he was doing. One was the man. And who else would save Wasyl? Bingo.

Weronika and Nikita were just passing by in this hotel, Eight trying her best to keep her legs crossed with these short shorts – she wished Three would have thought about her comfort in these – and Nikita having a conversation with a man at the reception. Sasha had a huge sport bag next to her as she eyed the hall, she spotted Four first talking with the receptionist with the thickest accent he could, which, according to herself, wasn't the best idea, and then she spotted their target. Nonchalantly, she stretched her back, hands high in the air and One came in. She felt nervous as hell. From now, she wouldn't see Amelia anymore, for a few months probably because all of this wasn't a small job, no, this was a full-time job. Pretending. Faking smiles. With only one ally by her side: Four.

“Wasyl Petrotchenko,” One asked as he put his hand on the man's shoulder.

“Who are you,” the man aggressively asked, looking left and right.

“Somebody who will be glad to talk with you, in private.”

“I wouldn't if I were you,” the man said, rising his voice slightly. But enough to let Four hear what was happening.

“Oh, you don't know me Wa...”

“You have a problem sir,” Four cut him off, casually walking towards them. He frowned at One, hands in his trouser's pockets, he looked so casual as if it wasn't a death threat to be there and to try this.

“You're lucky, Wasyl. You fucking really are,” One said, stepping outside the building as the two mean looked at each other.

“Thank you young man,” Wasyl said to Four as he gave him his hand.

“Always a pleasure to help.”

“Babe,” Sasha said, trotting her way up to them with her huge bag, “what's wrong?”

“Nothing doll, just some jerk being disrespectful to this man.” She clung to his arm, with a smile and looked at the man.

“Oh, you're with your lady here, young man,” the man said, eyeing Sasha who felt his very eyes undressing her. But Weronika shouldn't mind. Sasha did.

“Weronika,” she presented herself coyly.

“And I'm Nikita.”

“We're coming from the same family apparently,” the man happily said. “What you're up to here?”

“Moving from town to town, just to... Survive, you know,” Four said with heavy undertones that the man seemed to catch immediately.

“Interesting... You should come and meet me in a restaurant tonight, I'm meeting with some friends, I'd like to present you to them,” he offered before handing him a paper. “Bring your lady, it will be a nice evening.”

They got it.

* * *

They got in. Apparently, entering the mafia wasn't as hard as it seemed – when you were Eastern of course. Sasha had forgotten how good it felt to be surrounded by people talking about money, about heists and about a lot of things, and how she could think about what type of car they would need for this mission or how fast she could drive. But Weronika was a hooker, a good-driving hooker but no more. So, she had to look nice and smile, and stay quiet. She had a nice red headband with a little bow on it, and wore a beautiful – and tight – short red dress while sitting next to Four, him having his arm on the back of the couch as she could lean closer to him.

They were trained for that, and, strangely, the first time they had to hold hands and pretend to be a couple for a whole day wasn't as awkward as expected. Sasha tried to understand Weronika, and it seemed easier with Four by her side as Nikita. She told Amelia how disturbing it was to be this comfortable with fake-dating him, and Amelia just rolled her eyes and mumbled something about obliviousness.

And, during that evening, they drank. Never enough, never too much. They drank until the party was over and they had to be back in their hotel, they drank until the man told them that he would call them on the next day to tell them what they could do for him as thieves – as he winked looking at Sasha who coyly smiled and bite her lower lip with her index wandering on the corner of her lips. They seemed to had won it. They felt like king and queen of this mission – not even thinking about Two who had still to enter the mafia in a way or another.

As they walked in the hallway of the hotel, Sasha began to tipsily agitate her hands as she slowly danced her way through the long red carpeted hall. From time to time, she tuned back to look at Four with a smile.

“Don't tell me you didn't enjoy this evening,” she teased with a little giggle.

“Was nice,” Four replied, looking for the keys in his pocket. He couldn't look at Sasha for a longer moment without thinking about her as his girlfriend, not only a fake one but as someone he desired, right now, as drunk as he was. But he had to stay calm.

“You look so concentrated, Niki,” she said to him, brushing his nose with her index. She also wanted to tease him, and to maybe have more. And when she arrived in front of their door, she leaned against it, before Four came up to her. “Want to have a little fun,” she asked as she put her arms around his neck.

“We're drunk,” he tried to say but she put a finger on his lips, encouraged by her tipsiness.

“Not enough.”

He opened the door. She pulled him, grabbing his shirt, against her chest, kissing him passionately. She couldn't get enough of his tongue as she kissed him harder and harder. She lacked air, she had to catch her breath as they parted for a second, her forehead against his.

“Give me all you got Four,” she gasped as he looked deeply into his pearly green eyes.

“Only if you give me everything tonight,” he replied grabbing her by her waist.

“You know that Eight is two times Four,” she asked running her hand through his short blond hair. “I'll give you even more than that.”

She let herself fall on the luxurious bed behind them, Four letting her go. Her long blond hair falling all over from the ponytail she made earlier. She looked at him, lust in her eyes. The Polish angel, looking at him, laying on the dark sheets, her pink lower lip bitten, she screamed innocence but her attitude was anything than that.

“Will you give me your babies, Four,” she asked, teasing him as she ran her hands through the strands of her messy hair. “Pretty please.”

“Don't you fucking Melanie Martinez me or I'll go nuts,” he answered with a hoarse voice as he looked at her, then he humidified his lips with his tongue.

“Maybe it's all I want, Four,” she replied going on her knees, resting on her hands behind her back. “You'll watch me for the rest of the night or we'll have some fun?”

“Stop teasing me Eight, I have a hard time controlling myself right now,” he whispered as he went on the bed, moving forward to reach her and to kiss her neck. “Really hard time...”

“You don't have to, you know I love everything you do,” she gasped between the kisses he gave her in her neck. “Please, please Four...”

She could feel his bulge as he leaned against her, she was really excited too. She ran her fingers under his shirt, stumbling upon some rough scars under her finger tips. He moved back, to take the shirt off, and as he did so, she took her dress off too revealing her black laced bra. The only thing she loved more than comfy clothes was lace. He looked at her with a burning desire, she definitely turned him on: she had that power over him.

“We should stop playing Eight, let's get serious.”

She whispered back “As you wish, Niki.”

And as they game unfurled, she rode him, she moaned and he did too. If she could, she would have taken his babies, but they protected themselves. Sasha slowed down, reaching this panting moment, looking at him, making the pleasure last, as if it could go on forever. She felt it, he felt it too, an explosion. Their moaned their names, their code names. She kissed him, quickly, almost a chaste kiss before whispering “I think I'm breaking One's rule by falling for you.” “You're not alone then, I'm ready to break so much more rules for you.” They probably would.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it leave a comment or a kudo and if you want you can find me on [Tumblr](https://zwiezraczek.tumblr.com/) where I mostly shitpost and ramble about my current love for Ben Hardy (or other people when I have another phase haha)


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